Of Order
by enjoiturbulence
Summary: A continuation of Of Chaos. Karen meets a personification of order.


Of Order

Karen shouldn't be there, of course, it's a Thursday night and there's work tomorrow though she's not quite sure she'll even bother to show up because he'll be there and she'll be there so she just sits there in front of the bartender and when he asks if she wants another beer she simply nods. Karen's never been one for drinking alone but considering how it feels like Jim's cut her from the collarbone down the line of her sternum to her pelvic bone and her insides are just poring out, she finishes the beer right before the tender brings her next.

The stools on either side of her are empty, as is most of the bar, a hole in the wall where all the sad fucks of the world come to drink their minds quiet. She feels at home there. The place is called Lloyds but she's not too sure whether or not the man selling her beer is Lloyd or not. The man behind the bar is older, early fifties perhaps, with a slight gut and no hair but she can imagine him stomping unruly customers on the sidewalk so she likes him immediately. He knows she's upset but doesn't force the issue, which she appreciates. He keeps bringing her beer and she thanks him.

"Reverend Ward," the tender says when the doors open and in comes walking another old man, late forties, in a threadbare suit and worn grey fedora hanging back on his head. "The usual?"

"That'll do, Lloyd. How're you tonight?"

"Slow." Lloyd prepares a shot of whiskey and puts it on the bar before pouring a pint of Guinness. The Reverend comes up and sits right beside Karen. She's moves slightly away from him when the smell of stale cigarettes hits her.

"Hopefully you're night'll pick up," Ward said before picking up the whiskey and downing it in a gulp, chasing it with a good bit of Guinness. When he finished drinking he wiped away some foam from the stubble above his lips with the back of his hand. He turned to Karen with a squinty eye. "What's a lovely girl like you doing drinking alone in a dirt hole like this?"

Lloyd smiled and went about cleaning the empty shot glass.

"Just feel like drinking, I guess. Are you really a Reverend?"

"Technically, no."

"Once a man of God, always a man of God," Lloyd says.

"That's what I say, at least," Ward replies. "Was a Reverend for some twenty years."

"And you're not anymore?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"They don't like it when you give sermons drunk, I guess."

The laugh that came out of Karen's lips, the first one she had managed all day, brightened the blue eyes of the Reverend.

"Why," she started once she stopped laughing, "why did you give a sermon drunk?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Was it?"

"I've no regrets about it. So what's burning behind those pretty eyes, girl?"

"Huh?"

"There's got to be something burning there. What's wrong?"

"Well," Karen said, "I guess you could say I'm depressed."

"Why's that?"

"Me and my boyfriend kind of broke up today."

"That's horrible. What happened?" The Reverend finished his beer. Lloyd had another ready for him.

"He's in love with someone."

"Someone who's not you."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. It just sucks because, well, I want to hate the girl, but I can't. She's been nothing but nice to me since I transferred in."

"You work with her?"

"Mmhmm," Karen mumbles as she nods and downs her own beer.

"And with him, too?"

"Yep."

"Bummer."

"You could say that." Karen lets loose with a sigh and looks from her empty glass to the television playing mute behind Lloyd. The words "Hostage Situation" were clear below a reporter who was standing in front of a rather familiar office building. Two and two were not yet four.

"So, what're you going to do?"

"I don't know. Without Jim, there's really nothing holding me here. I transferred because I was with him."

"I say, you should stick around. Don't let something like this break you."

"Kind of hard not to," she said. "Could I get another beer, please?"

"Sure thing," Lloyd responded.

"How long were you with him?" The Reverend asked.

"Two, three months."

"That's not too bad."

"I know, but he was so great. The type of guy that only comes around once in a lifetime."

"I don't think that's quite true."

"How's that?"

"I truly believe there is someone for everyone. I managed to find my Kathleen, and before she passed, those were the best years of my life."

"I'm sorry to hear about that," Karen said. She sniffed and tried to brush away the tear at the corner of her eye before all that was burning inside her came out.

"Don't be. She had a good life, and I believe she's in a good place. Whether or not I'll see her again, well, that's up for debate."

"Bullshit," Lloyd said. "You're probably the best guy I know."

"I've had my share of folks call me a 'heathen', so who knows. Point is, if he really was that once-in-a-lifetime-guy for you, well, he'd be with you. Maybe he's her once-in-a-lifetime-guy? Yours just hasn't come into your life yet."

"Maybe."

"Ain't no 'maybe' about it, girl. What you're feeling now, it's just temporary. Justifiable, even."

On the television, a man and woman who looked very familiar left the building. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Could you turn that up?"

Lloyd complied and the voice of a reporter said, "-situation, it appears, at Dunder-Mifflin, is now over, where two employees were taken hostage by what to appears to be the man responsible for the death of officer Josh Duane just under an hour ago. As you can see, the two employees are safely out of the building. Police are saying that a gunshot was heard after the hostages were released. An unidentified source within the Scranton Police Department has told me that the man responsible for the day's incidents, one Nick Kerman, killed himself before the police could reach him. Surely a tragic evening."

The camera had followed Jim and Pam from the building, where a police officer had led them to a car. The shared kiss was broadcast and Karen thought she would be sick.

"Something like that," she says once she her composure returns, "really, how can you justify something like that? How can God justify that?"

"You alright, girl?" the Reverend asks.

"How can you or anyone justify this bullshit?"

"So, you're asking that most famed of questions?"

"What question?"

"Why do bad things happen to good people?"

"Well, yeah."

"Can't tell you how many times I've been asked that. You know by who?"

"Who?"

"People like you, who don't realize how fucking good you've got it. You know why bad things happen to you? Because they have to. Because shit happens, everyday of existence, shit happens. You could even go out on a limb and say, 'Life is shit', and sister, I'd probably agree. But the thing is, shit as life is, it's necessary."

"Necessary?"

"Fucking of course it is! You need the bad much more than you need the good. You need to have your heart broken at least once in your life."

"You need this?"

"Fucking A right you do! If you've never had your heart broken, how could you know, and how could you appreciate how good it feels to really and truly be in love?" He paused for a moment and drew a pack of cigarettes from his coat, pulled one out with his long fingers, and lit it from a match she didn't even see. After the first puff, he started again.

"Without the bad things in life, we can't know the good. That's why bad things happen to good people. I knew this little boy from Sierra Leone. Beautiful little boy. Parents were killed in the Civil War. Brothers, too. Was an orphan, had seen his family butchered, and you know when he was the happiest? The only time I saw a smile spread over his lips was when he played with a rubber ball. A simple, rubber ball. This kid knew pain, knew suffering that would break someone like you or me, but because of that, he could appreciate the little joys in life more than anyone else. Because that's all we've got, sister, is the little things, and if we can't understand that, we're fucked.

"I know it hurts, believe me, after seeing the cancer get my Kathleen, after watching her fade away, after having to sleep in an empty bed and know I will never open my eyes to see her sleeping, every day I wake up my heart breaks. It's been five years since she's died and my heart breaks everyday, and everyday I've got this little moment where I think, 'It's not worth it.' Everyday I want to end it, to take a straight razor and just cut into that flesh below my jaw, right into the vein, but you know what keeps me from doing that? It's the memories of every little moment I had with her. Watching her teach my boy how to play 'Amazing Grace' on the piano. The first kiss we ever shared. My heart breaks everyday and the only thing that keeps me from throwing my rotten existence away is the fact I can appreciate now, long after she's gone, what we had.

"You may be hurting now, but it's only to serve a purpose. When you find the person who makes you smile, who makes your stomach flip and makes you dizzy with kisses, you'll thank this man you've lost for showing you the depths of pain so you can stand on that heights of pure and simple joy. That's the order of life, sister. We must know suffering so we can know pleasure. That's why bad things happen to good people. Can you dig that?"

If anyone ever asked her, she could say she knew what it felt like to cry into her beer.

"You're a good person, Karen. Take what you've got here, and learn from it. That's all you can do. Learn from it, but don't let it break you. Don't let this run you out of town. Be happy that these two found love. Know you will to. Shit, girl, any man you decide to let enter your world will be the luckiest. Know that, and find him, and share in the luck." The Reverend turned to Lloyd. "How much do I owe you, buddy?"

"Brother, you know you're good, here."

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Well," the Reverend said after a moments thought, "let me buy her drinks for the night. Least I could do."

Karen started to say "No" but the Reverend quickly stopped her. "The least I could do. Have yourself a good one." From his coat he pulled a billfold and left two twenties on the bar. Karen hadn't even had three beers. The Reverend stood from his stool and went towards the door, whistling a melody his wife had written.

After a moment of silence, Karen turned to Lloyd. "I never told him my name."

"That's how it is with him. They say he's been talking to God for years, ever since Vietnam, but only recently has God started talking back."


End file.
